Clarisse Thorn

I write and speak about subcultures, sexuality, and new media.

Physical beauty is such a massive, overwhelming force in people’s lives — especially women’s. I’ve always felt so uncomfortable just thinking about it. Uncomfortable, yet driven. Obsessed and despairing. The anxiety of it comes out especially when I’m thinking about getting older, these days, being as I’ve made it to the ripe old age of 28. (Might as well be dead!)

I’ve been occasionally featuring postcards from PostSecret, an online community art project to which people send postcards featuring a secret they’ve never told anyone. I’ve been reading PostSecret for many years, and I’m uncertain when I began saving postcards, so I can’t date the following images; they could have come from any time, because I’ve always been so freaked out about this. And so has everyone else, apparently.

“I am more worried about aging than I am about dying.”

Me too, postcard. Me too.

I feel like my brain often goes through backflips, wanting to think about beauty but shying away from it too. I slammed up against this limitation a lot when I was researching and writing Confessions of a Pickup Artist Chaser — the pickup artist community is so obsessed with feminine beauty, and I felt so torn between hating that and wanting their validation. I think dealing with them made me more anxious about it, though it could also just be getting older.

I work so hard to see men’s perspective, but I can’t help resenting the way a lot of men talk about women’s beauty; for so many men, all they can see is power. So many men miss the slavery of it. A lot of men also miss the absurd schizophrenia, the way so many women trick ourselves into being unable to believe in our own beauty — because that would be vain and shallow and bitchy — so we trick ourselves into not-believing that we’re pretty. Yet we are simultaneously forced to believe we’re pretty in order to believe that we deserve to be out in public, because there is no greater crime than ugliness, for a woman.

A picture of Britney Spears, overlaid with: “I feel your pain. I was once beautiful, too.”

No greater sin than ugliness. Unless it’s being beautiful. Britney really epitomizes that. I made her the focus of an article that I wrote about men’s “visual sexuality” and women’s presentation, because she has taken so much punishment, been assigned so much blame — from both sides of the coin. Britney often comes across as bubbleheaded, but I feel like that’s how I’d come across too, if I had to balance such intense and conflicting imperatives. Sometimes, when I feel hemmed in by a man’s preconceptions about my appearance or my body or my sexuality, my only half-decent defense is to act like an airhead. Especially if I’m afraid of making him angry.

(It’s also a question I focused on in my short story “The End of An Age,” based on the ancient epic of the Ramayana: How much would the most beautiful woman in the world internalize her social punishments, believe that she deserved them?)

“I enjoyed being a beautiful woman … but it’s over and I’m glad because I feel free to be myself now.”

I’d like to believe that’s how I will feel as I get older and older: glad. They call it aging with grace, yes? Something women are expected to do, even as we are simultaneously expected to pull out all the stops to hide every advancing wrinkle. We must be beautiful, but our beauty must also be effortless and “pure.”

It would be nice to feel graceful every time there’s a change to my appearance. Breaking my neck imparted scars and a small amount of weight gain… an amazingly small amount for how much it makes me freak out over photographs on Facebook, which I shouldn’t be looking at because I’m not shallow or vain and don’t care about that stuff. Right? Right. Which is why I’ve never worn much makeup, except that now I feel like I’m behind the curve and I should learn how to do it properly, when I think about it, which I don’t because I’m not shallow. Right.

Not shallow.

I’m still scared, though.

(Shoutout to The Beheld, a smart feminist beauty blog that I follow sporadically.)

16 responses to “[postsecret] Beauty, and the Horror Of It”

I have never been conventionally beautiful. I’ve always been a bit lumpy, tomboyish, have a weird exaggerated figure, and I’m fiercely dominant but not domineering in a lot of ways (not necessarily a BDSM sort of way, but I have some leanings in certain situations).

I am 27, and on the cusp of turning 28. I’ve already had several situations where I’ve looked death in the face, including two major surgeries on my arm when I snapped it in half as a young teenager (being “put under” anesthesia feels a lot like dying). I’ve also given birth once, and am getting to the end of my second (and final) pregnancy (3 weeks to go).

I think that fixation on beauty is a luxury I just can’t afford, honestly. I do things that make me feel good (such as shower, put on face moisturizer so I don’t look all cracked and flaky and my skin doesn’t hurt, sometimes I get my legs waxed because I really like the feeling (especially in socks) and have a 4 o’clock shadow if I shave them anyway. I don’t do make up most of the time unless I’m really trying to accentuate an outfit.

But I’m the sort of person who really just likes the things I like- perhaps this is because I never went through the “OH I AM HOT” phase- I’ve always been taught to hate my body and instead of trying to compensate by pretending I was overly confident, I just made peace with the people (mostly my mom) who tried to make me feel insecure and did my own thing (which is harder than it sounds).

I think that a lot of my disinterest in beauty and neurosis surrounding it has a lot more to do with me simply refusing to participate in beauty culture (I don’t read women’s magazines, I don’t buy into diet culture and instead practice intuitive eating and HAES, and I don’t really watch a lot of mainstream media). I have a 3 year old daughter who I want to raise with as little media indoctrination of what one “should” look like as possible, and I know that 90% of that is modeling behavior that is accepting of MY OWN body and flaws. If I go “icky tummy” and pull on my stomach pouch, my daughter is going to do the same thing. And to my daughter, my body is amazing. I fed her for over two years from my breasts. I am warm and snuggly in the morning when she gets scared in her bed and climbs in with me. I am warm and comforting and smell like safety to her. Why wouldn’t that be the most awesome thing ever?

I have stretch marks from my first pregnancy. I have hair in funny places. I have 1 ft long scars running down both sides of my right arm. I have freckles. I have a very specific hairstyle that I like (short dramatic a-line) that some people find “weird”. But you know what? I like my body pretty well. It works for what I want it to do, and after experiencing a severed nerve in my arm, I know the frustation of staring at your body, willing it to do something and watching as your body refuses to cooperate (it took over a year of intense physical therapy and surgeries before I regained most movement and ability to use my right hand and fingers). Right now, I’m super busy because of the demands of working full time, parenting and maintaining a modicum of a personal life, but that too is fulfilling. And I have many friends (even though they are not all IRL), who like me and enjoy my company for more than just my physical appearance. And I have never experienced an overload of physical touch quite so intense as the intensity of a cosleeping, breastfeeding infant.

So yeah. I think that the focus on beauty may be tied more to our obsession with individualism as a culture, this weird idea that we’re commodities, and that sex is commodified and that one can be replaced at any time by some other, interchangeable, “better” person if your beauty fades or you gain five pounds or you stop acquiescing to someone’s extreme sexual demands.

But then I have to look at myself, and wonder, is that really such a bad thing? If someone will up and leave me over 5 pounds or gaining a couple wrinkles, then why would I want that person on my team anyway? How could I trust that person with long-term intimacy, financial solidarity, or share a bed with them? If no longer caring for me can be switched off in one second because of one very simple thing, then that person is an abusive fuckwad, and my life is better without that person (even if I am sad initially).

Well, at least, that’s what I feel after 28 long years on this planet. I only get one life. I don’t have time for people who don’t value me as a person and just want to use me until I’ve outstayed my welcome.

I grew up in a part of the country that places a high (er even than the rest of the country) on high femininity and conventional physical appearance. Like you, I spent a lot of time convincing myself I wasn’t attractive enough while still working hard to be conventionally attractive. A depression a couple of years ago resulted in some weight gain, and it has been weirdly freeing even as I agonize over it. There is an undeniable connection between being a little too heavy for conventional femininity and feeling less pressure to conform to those standards on a day to day basis. I do things like wear jewelry I like (a necklace sized version of Xena’s chakram, for instance) rather than more fashionable things designed to give others pleasure.

But still, I empathize with this double bind you face, and feel it myself, even as I often try to convince myself I don’t.

Beauty and grace. These are concepts I’ve wrangled with all my life… feeling beautiful but hiding it under baggy clothes and bad choices and a lot of fat that is taking as long to get rid of as it took to build up in the first place.

They are also the gifts of my “patroness” if you’re into that sort of thing… Aphrodite. They call her vain and shallow too.

I’ve been fascinated with the concept of charm school lately. Self-care is important, beauty and grace pleasurable. But they are subjective things!

Thanks much for the link… I am trying to wrap my mind around these ideas as I work on a new project – some kind of Aphrodisian-inspired “Charm School” which encourages self-exploration and development of personal habits for nurturing beauty and grace in life without someone else’s imposed rules of what beauty and grace look like.

Well Clarisse, I imagine you’re cute in a “geeky girl who over-thinks things” kind of way.

I work so hard to see men’s perspective, but I can’t help resenting the way a lot of men talk about women’s beauty; for so many men, all they can see is power. So many men miss the slavery of it. A lot of men also miss the absurd schizophrenia, the way so many women trick ourselves into being unable to believe in our own beauty — because that would be vain and shallow and bitchy — so we trick ourselves into not-believing that we’re pretty. Yet we are simultaneously forced to believe we’re pretty in order to believe that we deserve to be out in public, because there is no greater crime than ugliness, for a woman.

I think all forms of power commonly involve feelings of entrapment, guilt and denial.

I think beauty has the power you give it; just like other people’s judgment has the power you allow it.

It’s mostly a matter of (self) confidence: if you don’t have it, you are dependent on other people’s approval, if you have it, well, then you are pretty much free.

I agree with Nanasha (#1) above: if I accept and love myself, then others’ judgment is not so powerful anymore.
And if someone doesn’t accept and love me for who I am, then I’m better off without him/her.

Sure, many men are demanding about beauty (just like many women are, nowadays…). But not all of them.
So, what kind of men you would like to have around you…? :-)

“I think beauty has the power you give it; just like other people’s judgment has the power you allow it.”

I hope someone who has it in them more than I do at the moment will point out why this is wrong.

Valter: I do not mean to attack you, I just find that this idea, while prevalent, is ultimately untrue and damaging.

Also – as a woman who is closer to the beauty ideal than some, but can often be categorized as “ugly” – I don’t think this post is wrong, mostly, and I’m not saying that beautiful women do not have problems caused by others’ reactions to their beauty. But I think there needs to be more discussion of what it’s like for women like me. I feel like widespread conversations about beauty privilege are just starting to happen, and I want to see them get going, and hopefully be a part of them.

@Valter — I think beauty has the power you give it; just like other people’s judgment has the power you allow it.

Well, kind of. Except for the part where studies have shown that thin women make significantly more money than fat women, and blonde women make significantly more money than non-blondes, and women who wear makeup are deemed “more dedicated to their job” than women who don’t, and and and.

This is so timely because I just returned from a day in San Francisco where I saw the Cindy Sherman exhibit at SFMOMA.

Her more recent work has dealt largely with the theme of being an aging woman in a society that places feminine youth on a pedestal.

I turned 31 this summer and I’ve begun to notice that I don’t “see myself” in popular cultural images as much anymore. It’s amazing how many TV shows, movies, commercials, magazines, advertisements, etc feature almost exclusively thin, white women in their teens and twenties.

When I was younger I thought that surely I will get happier the older I get. I was so right. I am now 30 and I am the most happiest I’ve ever been in my life (and it has been a upward trend after every year since turning 14). I’m also most content with my body and looks that I’ve ever been, that has also been a blessing of aging. I would never want to be 22 again. Oh the drama!

I’ve also had a weird appreciation towards my looks. I think I’m the perfect middle: Not too beautiful, not too ugly. I guess I always thought that being drop-dead-gorgeous would limit my life as much as being ugly would, just in a different way. The first easily luring your attention away from important things in life and the latter easily making you feel like an outsider (and oh yes, these are extreme examples).

I guess I then compensate my “mediocrity” with positive quirky-ness. There is certain things that I can do with my looks when going out side that makes me feel more *me* that I think also makes me feel more “beautiful”. And I’ve gotten enough validation that that is indeed the case:P

Hell, now days I’m even proud of my body. It has gone through hell and back and still serves me beautifully. If things keep going like I planned, my happiness limit will be in it’s highest just before I die ;) Now that would be an awesome thing to reach!

I remember that article on Britney and the less-than-professional interview, and I have to agree with your conclusions about “bubble headedness”. I feel like this is a good example of the kind of “morphing script” that AB mentioned in the PUA thread: acknowledge that you’re a sex idol and get called arrogant or feign ignorance and get called stupid. There’s also the deflecting unwanted sexual attention aspect (which was very apparent in that interview).

This is why I’m partly offended by that One Direction song “What Makes you Beautiful”: they first compliment a woman on the fact that she doesn’t openly acknowledge how attractive she is, and then they go on to almost chastise her for not acknowledging it when they compliment her. They act as if their recognition of her beauty is somehow some grand demonstration of their dedication, and that no one else has noticed it themselves. When I hear the lyrics, as much as I enjoy the song, I imagine a bunch of teenagers who can’t take the hint that this girl is not interested in them

I was never particularly preoccupied with beauty ideals while growing up (which I mainly chalk up to avoiding mainstream TV and media and benefiting from a certain degree of privilege: thin, white, conventionally pretty). And then when I turned 22, most of my hair fell out due to stress. I had very long, curly dark hair, and it had been my defining physical characteristic. For months, nearly all I could think about was how terrible I looked and how I horrified I was by my body’s newest betrayal (I’ve had other fairly dramatic health problems, but this is the first time it was so visible). Of course, I despised myself for caring so much about my looks (my inner feminist was infuriated), which only intensified the general misery. It’s been several years, and my hair is mercifully growing back. I’m still surprised by how much this episode impacted me, and it’s made me realize to what an extent beauty ideals have influenced me, despite my pains to disavow them. It’s nearly impossible to live in our society and not feel their constant pull. Like Clarisse, I feel pretty schizophrenic about it.

The moment when I realized that I am highly influenced by fashion and beauty ideals was what I call “The Glasses Moment.” I always believed that I was relatively immune — not totally immune, but that I didn’t care that much, especially about stuff like fashion (as opposed to facial or bodily beauty). Then I tracked my reactions to glasses styles and I was stunned by how much fashion influenced me. When the trend shifted from round glasses to square-ish glasses, I was shocked by how much my preferences shifted as well. I went from being like “round glasses! cool!” to being so annoyed by them that, I suddenly realized, I would take my then-boyfriend’s round glasses off every time I was with him entirely because I hated the way they looked on him.

[…] “Physical beauty is such a massive, overwhelming force in people’s lives — especially women’s. I’ve always felt so uncomfortable just thinking about it. Uncomfortable, yet driven. Obsessed and despairing. The anxiety of it comes out especially when I’m thinking about getting older, these days, being as I’ve made it to the ripe old age of 28. (Might as well be dead!)” Beauty, and the Horror of It – Clarisse Thorn […]

I agree with Nanasha (#1) above: if I accept and love myself, then others’ judgment is not so powerful anymore. And if someone doesn’t accept and love me for who I am, then I’m better off without him/her.

That’s something only someone can state who has it all: friends, partner or lover, relationship, sexual satisfaction.

I like and I love myself, but I am objectively ugly. Not just fat, no, ugly. Measurably. People look away when I walk past, or don’t notice me in the first place. These days I’m one of those many invisible women. The ones no one even notices anymore.

It’s over 3 decades that I was in any kind of loving or sexual relationship, I have no partner, no lovers, no relationship. I’m quite alone, no make that completely alone, because any friend there are, are online, virtual. At times it’s a lot of work to keep going.

I’ve been thinking a lot about beauty privilege; I’m glad that the feminist world is starting to have more solid, careful conversations about it. I’ve always felt like there was language lacking around this topic. I think we have to start by saying that there are real advantages to being conventionally attractive, and real disadvantages to not being conventionally unattractive. I don’t want to try and overtake or control the discourse from there — I’d like to stay mostly on the sidelines for this one — but that’s where I think we really have to start. The first step to dealing with a problem is acknowledging the problem, after all.

About Clarisse

On the other hand, I also wrote a different book about the subculture of men who trade tips on how to seduce and manipulate women:

I give great lectures on my favorite topics. I've spoken at a huge variety of places — academic institutions like the University of Chicago; new media conventions like South By Southwest; museums like the Museum of Sex; and lots of others.

I established myself by creating this blog. I don't update the blog much anymore, but you can still read my archives. My best writing is available in my books, anyway.

I've lived in Swaziland, Greece, Chicago, and a lot of other places. I've worked in game design, public health, and bookstores. Now I live in San Francisco, and I make my living with content strategy and user research.